Aching
by Trust Me I'm Psychic
Summary: Merlin doesn't want to burn at the stake, but he had to save his destiny.


**A/N: Though there might seem to be, there is no death in this. There is some graphic depiction of things though. **

**Set any time after season one and before the finale.**

**Disclaimer: IDOM**

Aching

Merlin's arms ached behind him, tied with coarse rope to the pole. The thick fibers holding him in place tore through the fragile skin on his wrists. The unrelenting wooden pole pressed into his back, holding him up, even though his knees were shaking uncontrollably.

All around him were the faces he had come to know over his time at Camelot. Mary the cook, who had often given him spare food so that he would 'put some meat on his bones', now stared at Merlin, face pinched in disgust. And the stable hand who helped while he mucked out the horses, sneered at him as if he was worse than manure stuck to a shoe. A myriad of faces similarly looked on as the warlock waited his death.

Merlin ached with the loss of these friendships. He always knew one day his secret would be out, everyone would know of his magic. He truly believed that at least some of them would care that he would burn, mourn his death. Yet here he stood, tied up as a traitor to the crown, surrounded by a crowd of people who hated him. A crowd that gathered to watch as he screamed and begged to be let go, to die faster. And all because he had a great destiny that he needed to carry out.

Now Merlin's life was going to end because he saved his destiny as he always had.

_He and Arthur were hunting, as they always seemed to be doing. Merlin was carrying the royal prat's cross bow as he followed the trail of a deer. And, like most other hunts, Merlin was wary of their surroundings. There had been reports of bandits in the area. _

_And like always on such outings, the woods soon fell silent. The bandits attacked. _

_Merlin, as usual, dropped all he was holding so to run behind a tree to cast spells undercover. Arthur pulled out his sword and started to attack the men. But they seemed endless. Merlin dropped a branch on a few here, and made a few slip, fall, and go unconscious there. But more kept coming. One after another went for Arthur, slicing and stabbing. Merlin was beginning to get frantic, he could not see them coming out of this fight unharmed. _

Merlin looks around crowd and sees Gwen and Gaius. He expects they would have been more sympathetic, as they have always been close. Gwen's face shows the same anger and betrayal that the rest of the crowd does. And Gaius… Gaius just looks disappointed. As if he is thinking _'How could you be so stupid, Merlin? I can't say how many times I told you to be careful about your magic. See where it got you'. _

It's almost too much for Merlin to handle. The man who is the only father figure he has can hardly look at him. And in what is to be his final moments, Gwen and Gaius, the two people who are most like family show no love. They do not even mourn him in the end.

_Arthur was fighting off several bandits when one got a lucky hit, piercing him in the side. He stumbled and fell to the ground, blood pouring from his wound._

_Merlin lost control of himself. What did it matter if the bandits saw his magic if his destiny was dead? He unleashed a furious wave of power, ending the lives of all of the enemies. He couldn't' allow any more harm to come to his friend._

_But Arthur saw. _

_Arthur's face morphed from shock, to confusion, to betrayal until it finally settled on anger. Blue eyes hard, he glared at his manservant. Even as he remained on the ground, bleeding from his side, he radiated rage at the only other living person in the area. _

_Merlin tries to get to Arthur, to explain, to beg, or at least to heal him. He starts walking._

_"Sorcerer." It's quite but fierce. "Stay back."_

_"I can help Arthur, please. Please just let me."_

_But Arthur was losing too much blood too fast. The anger never left his face, but his eyes started to droop. His face was paling with the lack of blood in his veins. "Stay away from me, traitor. I would rather die than let you near me now."_

_His words start to slur together as the dizziness that comes from spilt blood overcome him, though those words are strong and harsh. His eyes closed briefly and Merlin took another step forward. "No."_

_"I just want to help." Merlin kept walking slowly. Arthur struggled to keep conscious to keep him away. His eyes slipped closed as he failed. Merlin dropped to his side and placed his hand on the wound. "Nú séo bealubenn gelácne", he muttered. _

_Then again louder. _

_And again._

_Finally it closed. Though he lost a lot of blood, Arthur would survive._

Merlin looked to the balcony where the royal family overlooked executions. After he brought Arthur back to Camelot for Gaius to look after, he thought he would at least have the opportunity to explain himself. As soon as Arthur woke, ordered for his arrest. Now, Arthur only would look at his former manservant with barely contained contempt and loathing.

Merlin never got to say anything in his defense.

Now he would burn. A traitor, a liar, a disappointment. No one would come to his aid. He no longer had friends. He would die unloved, mistrusted, and alone. His heart ached with the loss.

He had failed destiny and those he loved dearly.

Arthur lowered his arm and the guard holding the torch walked forward, lighting the pyre.

Merlin didn't want to struggle and show pain, some need to keep his pride even at the end, but as the flames grew closer, so did the heat. The first flames licked at his boots, peeling back the leather. His socks went up quickly burning his feet. Still, Merlin tried not to make a sound. His pants then caught as tears made their way down his pale face. Then the skin on his legs started to peel back, going through nerves, exposing muscle that likewise burned. Now he screamed.

The pain was too much. Merlin opened his mouth and unnatural noises ripped from his throat. He was begging and pleading for it to stop. The fire engulfed him. Everything was now in an inferno, everything was pain. His aching arms no longer held him as the poll behind him caught fire.

There is pressure on his arms, pressing on the burns. _"Merlin."_

"Please…" he begged. "Just, please, let it stop. Please." The pain was too much again and he screamed.

_"Merlin!"_

Now he thought they were mocking him. The people who wanted to watch him burn calling out as if they wanted him to answer. Question him as he died.

_"Merlin, come on. Merlin! Merlin! Merlin—"_

Merlin woke up.

Arthur's blue eyes were inches from his own. He looked worried.

"Merlin," he said, "it's alright. It was just a nightmare. You're fine."

His breaths were coming in short gasps his lungs aching, filled with thick smoke. He couldn't figure out why there was the forest around him rather than jeering townsfolk.

Merlin looked around. He was lying on his bedroll in the middle of the forest. The knights were sitting around the fire, hunting instruments scattered around, looking worried, but decidedly not at the warlock. Was he dead? Do they still hate him even now? Will they burn him again?

His thoughts were still muddled as he frantically stared between Arthur and the fire.

"You're fine, I'm fine. Everything is alright. It was just a nightmare. Just a nightmare."

As Merlin's head cleared more, no longer clouded by the feeling of his burning flesh, he remembered it really was just a nightmare.

"I was burning." He doesn't mean for to it to come out so broken, but his voice cracks anyways.

Arthur looks into his eyes, saying with conviction, "You are my friend, Merlin. You are the bravest, most loyal, brilliant person I know. Camelot would be lost without you. _I _would certainly be lost without you at my side. You will _never_ burn. Never."

Merlin smiled, chest aching in joy. The nightmare was over.


End file.
